


At His Side

by jellyfishline



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishline/pseuds/jellyfishline
Summary: It’s one thing to have a crush on your best friend. It’s another thing to have an absolutely impossible crush on your best friend who, in addition to being royalty and literally 3000 miles out of your league, also happens to be engaged.





	At His Side

**Author's Note:**

> Written for promptis fanweek on tumblr. The first prompt was **realization--the moment they knew it was love**

It takes less than two days for Prompto to realize that coming on this trip was a mistake.

It’s one thing to have a crush on your best friend. It’s another thing to have an absolutely _impossible_ crush on your best friend who, in addition to being royalty and literally 3000 miles out of your league, also happens to be engaged to someone who’s intelligent and pretty and also royalty (and kinda accidentally responsible for your crush in the first place.)

And as far as the shit Prompto has to put up with, this is like, not even close to being the worst of it. A little unrequited crushing isn’t all that bad, compared to the constant threat of invasion or passing the Crownsguard physical exams or the fact that he hasn’t seen either of his parents in two months and—really, it’s such a tiny thing. It was easy to lose in the rhythm of daily life, like a lone sock in the back of the dryer, or a spare key that he didn’t even really need. It barely even hurt anymore.

But now. Now they’re on this trip together, this big bachelor party roadtrip bash, and Prompto’s never been so happy or so miserable.

Now Prompto knows what it’s like to fall asleep with Noctis next to him—not across the room in a sleeping bag, but right next to him in the same motel bed. Now Prompto knows how Noct brushes his teeth, and how he puts on his socks in the morning, and the brand of his hair gel, and the smell of his soap. Prompto thought he knew everything about Noct, but he was so, so wrong. These things—these little specks of daily life that don’t make any difference to Noctis—suddenly, they mean the world to Prompto.

They’re always together. Every second of the day. No Ignis pulling up in a sleek black car to whisk Noct away to some council meeting or other, no part-time jobs or school schedules to coordinate—there’s nothing to come between them except their destination, and that’s weeks away. For _weeks_ Prompto’s going to be so close to Noct that there’s nothing but self-control stopping him from wrapping his arms around those bony shoulders and telling Noct all the things he knows he should never say.

When they finally fix the car, Prompto sits up front with Iggy so he doesn’t have to watch Noct’s eyes light up when he talks. He kills time playing with the radio, making jokes he can’t remember, trying to distract himself with thoughts of other crushes so he doesn’t have to think about how Noct is _different,_ has always been _different._

It’s driving him crazy. These stupid feelings he should’ve grown out of when he was fourteen, sixteen, graduating highschool—if anything, age has made them stronger. They’ve matured, deepened. His heart doesn’t race when he meets Noct’s eye, but his chest _aches_ like someone’s dug into him with a spoon. He’s hollowed-out and overflowing. He takes a picture of Noctis on the docks of Galdin Quay and almost cries when he sees how perfectly he captured the moment.

He takes more pictures. The light on the sea. Bare feet on the sand. Noct fishing off the pier. He doesn’t ever want to forget today. Not a single second of it.

 

***

 

The night after Insomnia falls is rainy and humid. Prompto lies on his back, in the dark, staring up at the caravan ceiling. He’s too tired to sleep.

He rubs his eyes. The day’s events are on replay in his mind, but no matter how many times he sorts through them, he still can’t make them make sense. The city—his house—his parents—everything he’s ever known—how can it all be _gone?_

“Prompto?”

Prompto catches his breath. He’d thought Noctis was long asleep by now, but no—there he is, framed against the caravan window in the lights from Hammerhead.

“Oh, hey.” Prompto sits up on his elbows, seeking out Noct’s face in the dark. “What’s up?”

Noct shrugs halfway—crunches up his shoulders but doesn’t let them down again. “Can’t sleep,” he mutters.

Prompto sighs. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s not sure he could help it if he tried. He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, me neither,” he admits.

He kind of expects that to be that—for Noct to lay back down and leave Prompto to his thoughts. Instead, there’s a long, slow moment where Noctis looks at him and Prompto looks back, and neither of them say a word. Rain drums on the roof of the caravan, and after the day they’ve had maybe it should sound like distant artillery, but honestly, it just sounds like rain.

Noct’s hand twitches against the comforter. It’s a strange, involuntary movement, like a little kid making grabby hands at something out of reach. It draws Prompto’s attention.

“Prompto.” He wrenches his eyes away, up to meet Noct’s again. It’s impossible to tell in the dark, but he thinks Noct might be blushing. “C-can I just…?”

Prompto’s nodding before he can think about it, before he knows what he’s agreeing to—because, really, since when has he ever said no to Noct?

And, true to the trust Prompto has in him, Noct doesn’t ask for more than Prompto’s willing to give.

He rolls over, slipping into Prompto’s side of the mattress. Prompto doesn’t even have time to gasp in surprise before Noct’s throwing his arms around Prompto’s waist and burying his face in Prompto’s chest, his cheek pressed right over the panicked beating of Prompto’s heart.

“N-Noct?” Prompto chokes.

Noct shakes his head—or maybe just _shakes_ , it’s hard to tell. He’s wound so tight. His arms squeeze Prompto so hard he can barely breathe.

“Thank you,” Noct says, hard, like the words are clawing up his throat on the way out. “For—for joining the Guard. And coming with me.”

It takes Prompto a minute to realize what he means—what he _really_ means.

_Thank you for not staying behind in the city. Thank you for not dying when my father did._

He’s not really thanking _Prompto—_ maybe he’s talking to the Astrals, or just letting out the fear and relief in his heart. But Prompto feels touched, all the same. Like it was his foresight or his dedication to Noctis that kept him from dying when he was supposed to, instead of pure dumb luck.

But then, Prompto only exists at all because of luck. He was lucky enough to get out of Niflheim, lucky enough to get away from the war and behind Insomnia’s Wall where it was safe, lucky enough to go to a nice school in the central district that a certain someone decided was reputable enough even for the child of a king.

Prompto’s gotta be the luckiest man alive.

He puts a hand in Noct’s hair. Hesitantly at first, and then firmly, when Noct doesn’t let go or flinch away.

“Hey, it’s cool,” he says, softly. “Honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

There really isn’t. It doesn’t matter if this is temporary. If they die tomorrow, or next week, or eighty years from now surrounded by grandchildren—it doesn’t even matter if Noct really does marry Luna someday. What matters is that they have each other, here and now.

Here and now, in a lumpy worn-out mattress, with rain breaking the silence over their heads. Here and now, a warmth blossoming, spilling out from Prompto’s chest like a radiant light, so hot that it aches.

It should be a small thing. A silly, stupid little thing, that doesn’t have any place in a world of death and grief. But somehow it’s sweeter, realer, deeper than anything Prompto’s ever felt before. Somehow, when he wasn’t looking, that stupid little crush evolved. Leveled up. And now it’s love.

He’s _in love_ with his best friend.

Maybe in the morning it’ll feel impossible. The weight of it might come to feel like a burden when he has to carry the knowledge around in his heart. But now, it feels more like a weight’s been lifted. Like he’s remembered something he never should have forgotten.

He’d already decided years ago, before he even joined the Crownsguard, that he would follow Noct anywhere. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, anywhere, everywhere, it doesn’t matter. And not out of duty, or loyalty, or some sense of obligation—simply because he can. Because he wants to. Because he _loves_ him.

And Noct—maybe Noct doesn’t love him back in exactly the same way. Or maybe he does—but that’s a question for another time. Right now, it’s enough to know that Noct wants him here.

Noct’s arms are heavy and warm. His breaths are slow and even, soft on the edge of sleep. Prompto lets the sound drown out the thoughts in his head. He lets Noct pull him onward, out of the caravan and into a dream. Still together. Ever at his side.


End file.
